Don't Drink
by Smackalicious
Summary: and Wear White Shirts While with Tony and McGee. Just slightly crack!fic. Gibbs discovers that Ziva is a clumsy drunk. Many pairings, from het to slash to threesomes and moresomes. You've been warned.


Title: Don't Drink and Wear White Shirts While with McGee and Tony  
Pairing: Get ready: McGee/Ziva, Tony/Ziva, Gibbs/Ziva, Tony/McGee, Gibbs/Fornell, Gibbs/Tony, Gibbs/McGee, Tony/Gibbs/McGee, Tony/McGee/Ziva, Gibbs/Tony/McGee/Ziva  
Rating: PG-13, for questionable situations, if the pairings haven't already indicated such  
Genre: Het, Slash, Mixed  
Cat: Crack!fic (what else?)  
Spoilers: Technically, a certain photo from Recoil, though I can most certainly assure you that this not what happened in the episode.  
Author's Note: Written for the Give Me Giva . . . Maybe challenge on NFA. The challenge was based around above picture, with the goal to explain what was going on. This is one of my versions.

* * *

It was dusk. Sunset. The time of day between the sun being out and _not _being out. But it _was _still out. Because it was dusk. Duh.

Gibbs had just crashed his car into a dumpster – I mean, carefully arrived at an abandoned parking lot. Ziva had called him and something about her had sounded . . . different. His famous gut told him he had better get to her ASAP, because something could be wrong. He couldn't shake the rumble of worry from his stomach. Well, worry or hunger, he couldn't tell. It _had _been awhile since he'd eaten anything.

At any rate, he followed his gut right to this parking lot and was now searching for the woman in question. Well, not that Ziva's being questioned. She's a perfectly lovely woman and all . . .

"Gibbs!"

He turned to the voice, expecting to see a frazzled Ziva, or a frightened Ziva, or some other form of damsel in distress Ziva. But he didn't see any of those. He saw . . .

A BIRD!

He narrowed his eyes at the fowl. "How do you know my name?" he growled. "And why do you sound exactly like Ziva?"

"Gibbs!"

There it went again! He was going to take that bird out . . . get it some expensive birdseed . . . Well, come on. It _was _pretty cute. And a cardinal. Really, we all know how Gibbs feels about redheads . . .

Just as Gibbs was mentally pricing designer sunflower seeds, a stumbling clacking sounded, and he looked up to see Ziva falling towards him. He quickly reached out to steady her, one hand on her shoulder and the other on her neck. Her fingers wrapped around his wrist.

"Ziva, are you okay?" Gibbs asked, flustered. "I got here as fast as I could. I think we better get out of here, though. I've already been accosted by a dumpster and a cardinal!"

Ziva frowned at him, swaying a bit. "You were attacked by a Catholic dignitary?"

"No, Ziva!" Gibbs exclaimed, exasperated. "A bird!" He paused, sniffing the air. "I smell grapes. Have you been drinking?"

She nodded, pursing her lips. "Just a little bit, yes."

He looked down at her shirt, horrified. "What did you do? Is that blood? Was anyone with you?"

Rather than answer the questions, Ziva began crying.

Gibbs gave her another concerned look. "What, Ziva? What is it?"

She continued to sob, finally announcing, "Too many questions!"

Gibbs rolled his eyes. "Fine. I'll ask again. What's on your shirt?"

She was silent, then saw Gibbs' expectant look. "Oh, you want me to answer." Gibbs threw up his arms in annoyance. "It may be wine."

"May be?"

Ziva nodded solemnly. "Yes. I may have gotten a bit careless with my glass. But," she held up a finger in defense, "it was McGee's fault."

"So McGee was with you."

She nodded again. "Yes. And Tony."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow. "And just what were the three of you doing?" She opened her mouth to answer, but Gibbs held up a hand to stop her. "You know, on second thought, I don't want to know." Ziva pouted. "So where are they now?"

Ziva narrowed her eyes. "Who?"

Gibbs let out a sigh. "DiNozzo and McGee!"

She perked up again. "Oh! I left them at the hotel." She smiled, looking rather pleased with herself.

"What were the three of you doing at a hotel?" She made to answer again, and he held up his hand again. "Don't answer that."

Ziva gave him a disgruntled look. "Gibbs, I cannot stay here and talk all night. I have honeymooning to do."

Gibbs' eyes widened. "You got _married_?"

She nodded, smiling wistfully. "Yes. McGee was as happy as an oyster."

Gibbs narrowed his eyes at her slip-up before confirming, "You married McGee?"

She nodded again. "Yes. But then Tony was over in the corner pouting because _he _wanted to get married, too." She leaned closer to Gibbs. "You know how he is." She backed up again. "So McGee was nice enough to offer . . ."

"Oh, Lord, this can't end well," Gibbs muttered.

"Do not interrupt me," Ziva hissed. "This wristwatch has a hidden switchblade. I would hate to use it on you." Gibbs closed his mouth and she continued. "Anyway, I agree to marry Tony as well. And then we were back at the suite talking and they came up with the idea of calling you."

Gibbs gave her a wary look. "For what reason?"

She rolled her eyes. "To see if you wanted to be lucky husband number three, of course." She bonked him on the nose. "And they call you the team leader."

Gibbs glared. "How dare they."

Ziva threw up her arms, almost falling over backward in the process. "That is what I have been saying! You really can be quite dense at times."

"Not that!" Gibbs corrected. "DiNozzo and McGee! Don't you see what they were doing?" Ziva didn't appear to know, or care, as she was still waving back and forth. "Of course not, you're about _eight _sheets to the wind right now." He shook his head, reaching out and bracing Ziva so she would look at him. "They had you leave so they could have sex!"

Ziva gave him a wide-eyed look. "No!"

"Yes!" He swore silently to himself, then out loud to Ziva. "Dammit, I knew it was a bad idea getting involved with both of them at the same time."

Ziva continued to stare at him. "You and Tony and McGee?"

Gibbs gave her a sad nod. "And Fornell. But that was more of a side project." He sighed. "I always knew those two had something going on."

Ziva echoed his nod. "As did I."

He gave her a suspicious look. "You did?"

She snorted. "Of course I did. I had a feeling something was up when Tony suggested we all share a one-bed room and then turned to McGee and licked his lips."

Gibbs grimaced. "So you just left them there?"

She nodded. "Tony kept using 'Probie' in a strangely erotic tone and I did not want to be around for that." She straightened. "Anyway, would you like to get married?"

Gibbs shrugged. "Sure. Don't have anything better to do tonight."

Ziva let out a squeal of delight, latching her arms around Gibbs' neck. "You will not regret this." She paused. "Though I do not know that we will all fit in that tiny bed."

Gibbs smirked. "I'm sure we'll find a way. Come on, Ziva, lead the way."

Ziva turned to take them to the hotel, then turned again . . . and again . . . until she fell down and Gibbs had to pick her up and throw her over his shoulder, her cries of, "Whee!" following them back to his wrecked car.

It was okay, though. How else do you think he got married so many times?

**THE END!**

_A/N: Okay, I know that was completely ridiculous. But I had been writing WAY too many serious fics and needed a break, needed to get back to my crack roots. Feedback would be lovely. :)_


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